The Mech Touch (Web Novel) - Chapter 81: Culling

Once again, as he opened his eyes, Ning Changge awakened his extraordinary insight, only to find himself reborn as an abandoned infant.Coincidentally, Zhang Sanfeng passed by and took him in as his eighth disciple.From then on, on Wudang Mountain, there was an unparalleled prodigy with extraordinary insight. While others practiced martial arts or cultivated immortality, Ning Changge aimed to forge a path to eternal life in the world of martial arts!【You studied three thousand classic scriptures, mastered three hundred inner cultivation techniques, and, with your innate inner energy, created the “Eternal Green Immortal Technique”!】【Reading a hundred volumes of swordsmanship, observing battles between peerless swordsmen, you gained insights and created the “Gold-ranked White Tiger Sword Qi”!】【You established the Immortal Sect, spread the teachings of immortality, and led people around the world to cultivate immortality. You observed the path of mortals cultivating immortality and used their inspiration as nourishment, creating the “Great Dao Elemental Infant Condensation Technique”!】【You led the world to ascend, and the world’s will rewarded you with the Supreme Merit Golden Dragon feedback. You refused to absorb it, pondered carefully, and created the “Supreme Merit Body Forging Technique”!】Martial techniques, passing them on to others…

Mystery is the nourishment that keeps me from being ordinary.

It has been 20 years since he came to a world similar to the modern European background. With his early wisdom, Fei Lin learned a skill and finally became a decent person.

Originally thought that he would marry a wife and have children and live this life in a dull way, but found that there is another world under the shadow of the world.

In that world, there are occultists who practice esoteric techniques and master extraordinary powers.

It is weird to spy on humans in the dark and feed on humans.

There are evil god believers who worship the evil god, please the evil god through bloody sacrifices, and exchange power from the evil god.

There is an evil god who wanders outside the world, peeps at the world, and only infiltrates the power of scales and claws, which is enough to cause people to fall.

With the mystery as nourishment, he is no longer ordinary after 20 years of ordinary.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.

Roan transmigrated as an FBI investigator.Several years later, a journalist interviewed the world-renowned detective Roan Greenwood and asked,“What made you persist in solving cases for so many years?”Roan tilted his head and glanced at the sports car beside him, the villa behind him, and the beautiful woman inside the villa. He smiled slightly and said,“Well, the bonus after solving the case.”“What?”